The Justice Bringer
by BeautifulTendencies
Summary: So, this is kinda a companion to my other story Being Freed, but its much more darkerish (is that a word?). Anyway, It's how Freed met Laxus, and how his name changed from Albion to Freed.


The Justice Bringer

Author's Note: _I wrote this a while ago, and I really wanted to include it in Being Freed but I'm just not sure where I would put it in, so this is the story of how Freed met Laxus. It is kinda dark, with a great deal of implied violence, but nothing is really happening . . . it is a tad graphic. It's also really short, but please enjoy!_

The boy looked over the smoking ruins of what had been a bustling guild as little as an hour ago with a cynical gaze. There was truly nothing left, it was only a field of ashes now. He growled in satisfaction now that his goal had been completed, and sat down next to the only thing untouched by his dark destruction, a body, her unseeing eyes open and allowed to bear witness as everything that had chained her crumbled to dust.

With the amount of magic he had just used, he should have passed out a long while ago, unable to finish his mission. The only reason he was still alive, was her. He looked at her body, mouth still open in a scream, eyes wide in terror. She had once been his mother once but was no more, as the kind spirit that had dwelled within her flesh had gone, bled out of her from the gash tracing across her neck from ear to ear gaping in a cruel smile. It had been her last gift to him, a last ditch opportunity for her only son to get the freedom she so wished for him. In her last moments before his father slit her throat, she had looked into his eyes and poured every last bit of her magic into him.

It had been just enough for him to take revenge on her death and take down his father's criminal enterprise. She couldn't get him out herself as his father was constantly draining her power and pouring it into his own body, since he didn't have his own. It had been just before such a harvest, and she had more magic then than she did at any other time of the year. She had outlived her intended purpose anyway, and produced an heir for the dark wizard to pass the torch on to. So he had learned the magic his father wanted him to, learned about darkness, about pain, about death. He had taken his father's lessons with his mother's power, and used them to bring his dark father down.

He hadn't killed everyone, those who were kept and torchered in the dungeons he had set free, along with the slaves that had cleaned and cooked and kept the house in order. They called him Ash Bringer, Demon Slayer, the Hand of Justice, Freedom. He had heard their whispers as he lead them to the path which would take them to the closest town. He didn't go with them. He had to cover their escape. He had to take the entire thing down, if he wanted to be truly free. He knew his father would never stop searching for him if he was allowed to live. He had to be free, it was his mother's last wish. He had to bring justice, as his own dark revenge.

He snorted as he realized that the magic depletion was making him somewhat delirious. With little energy to move, he curled up next to his dead mother, wrapping her cold, stiff arms around him. _I am truly freed,_ he thought as calming unconsciousness settled over him. _Justice was served_. _I'm free. Justice._

* * *

A blond boy, no more than twelve trudged up the hill to the smoking ruins. As he looked at the destruction, his eyes widened. He had been sent there to take down a dark guild only to find it leveled with what looked like no survivors.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted movement. It was a little pale boy with green hair, who could not have been more than a year or two younger than him.

"Hey!" He ran to the young boy, watching, as he fell sideways next to a woman, curling into the fetal position around her arm. The blonde dropped to his knees next to the pair. "Who are you? What happened here?" He attempted to question the smaller boy as he shook him, trying to keep him awake. "Help! I need some help over here!" he called back to his companions, who had just crested the hill as the pale boy mumbled something.

"What was that?"

"I'm free," he mumbled again. "Justice."

But that wasn't what the blonde heard. And from then on, the sickly pale boy was known as Freed Justine.


End file.
